Dress Like A Doll
by Mini-Moffie13
Summary: Undertaker simply can't control himself when Grell is around, his brain and body don't cooperate leading him to invite a flamboyant intrusion into his private world, in the form of a certain redhead with more curiosity than sense. Undertaker has many secrets, but how many of them can Grell uncover before time runs out? (may contain spoilers for the 2nd Musical and the manga)
1. Chapter 1

Watching from above the most entertaining scene of would-be massacre at Druitt's opera, under the guise of a woman dressed all in black with a delicate lacy black veil hanging down over an already surprisingly effeminate face, which was scarred by battle but not by the deceptively long years of life so far endured, a smile most taunting touched the thin lips of the immortal. It was so amusing to see the bumbling habits of humanity, the weeping; the brave; the cowardly; the screamers; the lovers and the haters, not quite worthy of full blown laughter but they were easy to mock to the extent of a coy smirk.

But then there were those higher beings more worthy of his concentration, the ones causing the real drama that evening, stalking among the guests, the Demon butler; the rouge Reaper; the cursed Reaper and the highly attractive red Reaper. He had understood, of course, straight away that it was a Reaper killing the young ladies around London, and knowing as he did about the condition of young Alan Humphries he had deduced that the killer was none other than Eric Slingby. He sympathised with the desperate male, he had seen a friend claimed by the Thorns before and it was not a pleasant experience for either party, and yet by the same breath it amused him no end to see the lengths to which he was going to try and save his friend.

Regardless he had kept the full truth from the young Earl, whom he also saw was in disguise across the banister from him, knowing the game would not be as much fun if he did not work the answers out by himself.

Shaking his head, Undertaker looked back towards the centre of the room where a battle of certain sorts had broken out, Slingby's presence unveiled and an overall cataclysm of violence splaying across the stage. His gaze was drawn to the vibrancy of red which was flashing back and forth, drawing his attention and making a smile tug at his lips. Ah, Grell Sutcliff, that amazing specimen of Reaper-hood, every inch the woman he desired to be in this ex-Reaper's eyes, and beautiful with it. Currently wearing such a stunning dress which showed off his curvaceous and feminine body.

He was suddenly very grateful for the veil he wore over his face which thankfully hid the impressive blush which had just spread over his face. Oh how inappropriate this crush was, the redhead barely even noticed his existence and when he did he was terrified, though it had to be said that scared expression of his sent chills up and down his spine.

Undertaker giggle softly, melding with the shadows as Slingby went about his business stealing the souls he needed, the last thing he needed was to be spotted or attacked, he really didn't feel like getting into a fight, especially when the danger of more Reaper's showing up was currently so great. He had been experiencing a perfectly peaceful life for the last fifty years, and he really didn't feel like having that interrupted by him being discovered.

A soft curse escaped his lips as his least desired occurrence occurred, in the form of the appearance of William T Spears and Ronald Knox, and he instantly paid a little more attention to concealing himself from being sensed or discovered. Though luckily for him it appeared the pair were far to engrossed in exacting punishment upon Slingby to take notice of his own presence.

He watched the fight unravel into minor scraps as several of the main perpetrators escaped or gave chase. His eyes narrowed as he saw the red reaper heading straight for his hiding place and before he could stop himself his arms snatched out and snagged the red head around the waist and mouth, silencing him and making sure he didn't scream out in surprise.

With a slow and steady snap of his fingers the quick but risky use of his slightly rusty Reaper powers, he stepped backwards through a dimensional portal, arriving back at his parlour before he closed the portal again and sank down onto the lid of a coffin, using his powers after so long was exhausting, he felt drained as he released the flailing red head from his grasp. He never even saw it coming because of his temporary delirium, but the hard slap around the face soon snapped him back to attention and he ended up falling backwards off the coffin he had been perched on and was completely engulfed by the skirts under his elegant dress. He flapped around, spluttering to find some way of exiting this cloth prison.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Grell's voice shrieked from nowhere, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"Ohhh please don't scream so loud... I have a terrible headache from using that ability." he grumbled, still faffing about with his skirts as his long lithe legs kicking about restlessly in the dainty high heels he had adorned.

There was a moment's pause, in which he assumed Grell was considering his words, and then suddenly he felt a pair of thin arms wind around his torso and helped him sit up before gentle hands prised away the offending layers of material from in front of his face. Finally able to breath again, he spluttered slightly and removed his veil and hat, looking up at the redhead with a pout.

"I..." Grell's mouth was hanging open and words seemed to fail him as his beautiful green eyes simply gawped with wonder and confusion.

"What? What, what? Where did that anger go?" he asked, before he went even paler than normal and reached up, realising his hair was still pinned back and his face in full view, "Oh fudge~" he chuckled, "I guess the secret is out then!"

"And you thought I wouldn't recognised a dimensional portal when I'm dragged through one, Darling~?" the other Reaper asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, "You're a Reaper? A Grim Reaper?"

He looked away and let out a huff, "Hehe... Ah well there is no use hiding it is there?" he giggled softly, looking back at him, "Yes, I was a Grim Reaper." Undertaker pulled away slowly and stood up, brushing the dust from his black ball gown before he sorted his hair so it covered his face once more, he disliked showing more of his scars than was necessary, it made him uncomfortable and naked.

"But where are your glasses, Darling? I can't imagine the Dispatch are- Oh... Oh my goodness you mean to say... You're a deserter?" the redhead breathed, straightening as well and resting a small hand over his mouth.

"I refer optionally retired~" he shrugged, holding his hands out to show he was in no danger.

"But all this time you've been right here... I've been in and out of this parlour! I never even noticed... What about Sebby~? I wonder has he noticed, he notices everything and he knew about me~"

The ex-Reaper grinned slightly, scratching his head, "Ah but the key difference in our disguises is this: I do not show my eyes." his smile widened, "Whether you changed their shape, changed your glasses even, your eyes remained that piercing Reaper green, any half intelligent non-human would have seen you for your true self."

Grell pouted and flicked his hair over his shoulder, "My what a rude man you are, picking holes in a lady's disguise!"

"Ah, I apologise, I'm so used to talking to people who don't talk back I quite forget my manners." he giggled gently and walked forwards, lifting the redhead's chin with his finger, "Forgive an old man?"

The Reaper tried to look anywhere but at Undertaker, but failed and ended up pouting right at him, batting his red tinted eyelashes, "What were you even doing at the opera? And why did you bring me here, Darling? Are you going to molest me?"

The white haired male blinked under his long fringe and wondered how best to answer, "I wanted to see how things would unravel at the opera, I of course knew of Slingby's plan, but wanted to see the lengths of which he was willing to go. I... Am uncertain why I brought you here. It was instinctual... A fleeting desire I couldn't ignore."

"Anndddd... Do you plan to molest me?" Grell purred, moving a little closer and playing with a strand of snowy hair, "Un-der-ta-ker~"

"N-No of course not, I couldn't possibly take advantage of a lady like that." he spluttered, going red with embarrassment as he looked away. Damnations why did this redhead have such an effect on him. It was ridiculous.

"A... A... Lady?" He looked back at Grell and was shocked to see tears pricking his eyes behind his red rimmed glasses.

"Did I say something to offend you?"

"No... Quite the opposite Darling! No one has ever called me a lady before!" he sniffled, his hands slowly pressing together and his fingers locking as if in tight prayer, "T-Thank you!"

"You... Are welcome?" he said uncertainly, unnerved by the others reaction.

Grell took a few moments to regain his composure before dabbing his eyes and smiling toothily at the other, "Where did you get this dress anyway, Unny Darling, its most flattering, I never knew you had such a feminine figure! I'm envious~"

_'Unny? Did he just... Give me a nickname?'_ Undertaker cleared his throat and offered one of his creepiest grins, "Ah I believe in an outfit for every occasion! As such, I made this little piece in case I ever needed to sneak into an all girl's party, like this evening. What of yourself? That dress certainly shows off your femininity."

"Oh Darling~! Aren't you just so adorable! I bought this a few months ago on the off chance of being able to wear it!" he giggled flirtatiously, leaning into the other male.

"Ah well... You look wonderful in it my dear, would you mind if I went and got changed, as freeing as it is to wear this... It is somewhat tight around the waist." he chuckled, trying to find an excuse to leave his presence for a while.

"Oh don't mind me, I'll wait here for you!"

The ex-Reaper rushed to one of his vertical standing coffins, opening it to reveal a hidden door, he rushed through, closing the entrance behind him as he stepped into the lavish lounge beyond; he took a breath, swallowing as he tried to control his thumping heart beat, never in his eternal life had anyone ignited such a flood of emotions in his heart. It scared him.

He hastened to the metal spiral staircase in the corner and wrestled his way up their among the layers of his garment. Finally reaching the next floor he hurried with light footsteps into his bedroom, closing the door and letting out a breath as he leaned against the pine wood.

"Stupid man." he muttered to himself, "Emotions do you no good, no good at all, better to leave well alone. Stupid body snatching him from the opera, what were you thinking? Are you so senile now you act of your own accord? Tch, foolish body. Foolish man." he mumbled away as he would do while working over a corpse, all the while struggling to unfasten the silken ties at the back of the dress.

Even that made no sense, he was good with his hands, he could take a corpse apart in under five minutes flat. He was excellent with his hands, he was a master of hands!

"What are you even on about?" he asked himself as he got the ties undone and with a groan of relief allowed the dress to fall from his feminine frame, pooling around his feet and leaving him naked to the cool air of his room.

His eyes slipped closed behind his hair as he took a moment to compose himself, finally getting control over his heart rate again he strode over to the wardrobe and opened it, grimacing as the mirror on the inside of the door revealed the ugly scars littering his arm, thigh, hip, chest and neck. He hated them. Ugly, messy and horrific as they were. He was only pleased his hair mostly hid the one on his face.

"Laughter, concentrate on the laughter, humour makes sense even when nothing else does. Live, laugh and laugh loudly." he murmured under his breath like a private mantra as he pulled on a pair of tight black pants, followed by his thigh length priestly robe; he buttoned the material close and straightened the cuffs before finally returning downstairs to tell the redhead to get out of his parlour.

Company didn't suit him.

He pushed open the coffin door and walked out into the parlour, he stopped dead as his bear feet hit the cold concrete floor and he saw to his mix off horror and endearment Grell Sutcliff had curled up on top of one of the coffins and had fallen fast asleep. He stared for a good five minutes before he dropped his head into his hands and swore under his breath, "Bollocks."


	2. Chapter 2

Undertaker stood in the doorway staring at the sleeping redhead with an expression somewhere between horror and endearment. On the one hand, this was his personal space which Grell was intruding upon (never mind the fact the ex-Reaper had brought the redhead into his personal space himself) without so much as a by your leave or a thank you. On the other hand, he looked so sweet cuddled up in a small ball, worn from his tiresome work and stress levels.

He slowly rested his hand over his face in thought and closed his eyes, "Ah I've brought it all on myself." he murmured in realisation before he resting his hands on his hips and wondering what was best to do. If he called on William to collect Grell there was a risk his identity would become known, not only that but Grell would be punished for leaving his post. But if he allowed him to stay knew what might happen, the redhead was clingy; loud; messy; clumsy and had no regard for maintaining personal space...

The ex-Reaper could have head-butted a wall at that moment, he was exactly the same as the redhead. They had identical personalities. They were going to clash. Or they'd get on like a house on fire and then he would never be rid of him! He began pacing back and forth in front of the coffins, resting a hand over his mouth in concentration as he resisted the desire to bit upon his insanely long nails. He'd brought it all upon himself, or rather his stupid body had, his brain had been in gear telling him to hide but could his brain listen? Oh no! No it had to reach out and grab at him, ensnare him in his arms and draw him in close like a... A... Oh he couldn't even think of a comparison.

He wasn't good with people, he couldn't figure out how to communicate with them and he ended up scaring or insulting them. Short conversations were fine, passing information in exchange for a giggle was fine, but actually talking to someone in depth about... Things was far beyond the normal. It wasn't like there was a lot to discuss while slicing up cadavers and stitching them back together again in an orderly fashion to create the illusion of peaceful serenity and eternal rest.

Why was he worrying? Grell would wake up, have a stretch, maybe a cup of tea with a bone shaped biscuit and then he would leave, it would be fine, the redhead had no reason or purpose for staying with him. Certainly he had been angry when initially kidnapped so if he pushed a few buttons and annoyed him he would leave without any fuss. It would be fine, he just had to act normally. Normal for him. Be a crazed, eccentric lunatic and Grell would be out of the door before the clock chimed. Problem solved.

There was just that one lingering question... Why had he taken Grell in the first place? His brain sure as hell didn't know and his body couldn't exactly answer in simple terms save for the thundering of his heart whenever he looked over at the sleeping male, and the increase of pace in his pulse, and the flush which steadily crept up his neck and face.

He pulled a face and tried to stop the blush rising any further, this was one reason why company was bad for him, it made him act strangely.

Turning his back on the redhead, he found himself staring at the smooth ivory colour skull on the shelf and sighed, "Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. It will all be fine." he muttered.

"Mmm what are you planning over there, Darling? Are you talking to that skull~?"

"Ehh..." he looked over his shoulder slowly too see Grell was stretched out on the coffin, his legs crossed seductively and his head propped up on his hand, a somewhat suggestive expression on his face.

"Oh my, what a sensual expression on your face Darling~!" the redhead purred, "Mm I could just eat you up."

"Uhh..." Undertaker swallowed slowly and shook his head, snapping him out of the scene those words invoked, "What?"

Grell giggled and slowly sat up, crossing his legs slowly as he leaned forwards, "Say sweetie, you seem awfully distracted. Could it be the presence of little ol' me is too much for you to handle?" he cooed.

"Not at all." he stated, resting a hand on his hip while the other hovered in a crooked position near his face, "I'm merely tired after using my abilities after so long."

"Oh what a liar you are." the Reaper stood up with the grace of a cat prepared to pounce before he slowly crossed the small distance between them, each step elegant and thought out, and each step made Undertaker increasingly more unnerved.

The white haired male backed up quickly and stood behind his counter, leaning against it as he somehow managed to remain in control of himself, Grell was doing it on purpose surely, driving him to distraction, driving him wild with... Oh he didn't even know what!

"Why do you run from me, Darling?" the redhead purred as he prowled forward, leaning against the other side of the counter and bringing their faces close together, "Mmm you brought me here without reason, and then run from me? Ah you are a confusing madman."

"Mad, yes, yes I am mad. And dangerous. So you best run along yes?" he said, flicking his hair over his shoulder, "You wouldn't want to be in danger now would you?"

"Oh but sweetie, danger makes my heart thump and my pulse race."

Undertaker stood up straight again, "This kind wouldn't. It would make you tremble and quiver in fear."

"But fear is exhilarating." "No it isn't." he ex-Reaper chastised.

Grell pouted at him and rested his chin in his hands, "If you really want me to go you have to answer me a question first~"

He clenched his teeth for a moment before allowing a wide grin to stretch over his face, "Alright, deal." he agreed, leaning back against the counter again.

"Why did you bring me here just to cast me back out again?" he whispered, his strawberry scented breath blowing over the other's face.

"Uh..." he stared at him, slightly put off by the warmth of his breath against his skin while at the same time muddling for an answer he still didn't possess himself.

"Answer Darling~ Answer and I'll leave~" he cooed, smiling softly at him.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Undertaker considered a reasonable answer, sighing heavily, "I don't know." he grumbled finally.

"Ah but that's no answer sweetie~ I guess I will just have to stay right here." he grinned like a Cheshire cat which had gotten some high maintenance cream and wiggled his hips slightly.

The ex-Reaper stared at him under his mass of hair, "I always forget how devious women are."

Grell seemed pleased by that comparison and stood up, spinning on one foot with the other kicked out behind him, the redhead was beaming widely, revealing his pointed shark teeth. For some reason it sent a pleasant shiver down the spine of the white haired mortician who instantly pulled his eyes away from him and blushed deeply, pleased his hair hid most of it.

He slunk out from behind the counter and sighed softly, "Alright... Answer me a question in exchange if you would?"

"Oh I will tell you _anything_ Darling!"

"Why are you so eager to stay?" he asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, not that said eyebrow could be seen.

Grell blinked at that and considered it for a moment before he giggled softly and edged closer, leaning against him, "You don't beat me up just for breathing." he answered, making Undertaker feel a little bad for him, it was true, everyone put him down or hit him for no real reason.

"Ah... Well you needn't worry, I don't like violence very much." he said, patting the other's head affectionately, slightly taken aback by how soft his hair was.

"Very much?" the redhead quizzed, a faintly fearful look in his eye.

"I only resort to it when there is no other option available to me. Even so it would weigh heavily on my mind."

"O-Ohh..." he smiled slowly again and nuzzled back into him, "That's okay then."

Undertaker sighed softly as he continued petting the other's scarlet hair and wonder what on earth he was meant to do next. He couldn't let him stay, or could he? He knew Grell had a reputation for disappearing from the Dispatch for a few days at a time, getting lost in his own little world and such, so if he did allow him to stay it wasn't as if he would be missed.

With a sigh it soon became obvious where this was going, Undertaker looked down at the redhead and rolled his eyes as his classical grin appeared on his face, "Alright, Kitten here's the deal, you can stay here for a few days and then you toddle off home, okay?"

Grell's gaze snapped up and he instantly squealed with excitement, "Oh my goodness, Darling, are you serious?!"

"Y-Yes... Stop pulling that face." he grumbled, covering the redhead's face with one of his hands, "Its too... Cute."

"Too cute?" he repeated, "Like there is any such thing!"

The ex-Reaper chuckled slowly and shook his head slowly, oh these were going to be a fun few days. Of that he was certain.


	3. Chapter 3

Grell did a little twirl as he adjusted his dress, looking at himself in the mirror situated in the bathroom, his host had presented him with a beautiful crimson gown to get changed into considering he needed to bathe and wash, and he didn't want to put on the same clothes as before.

The dress was a rich ruby red with a low cut V neck and a high laced collar as well as delicately patterened lacy sleeves which slid down to his wrists and flared out into a leaf shape, making his arms seem a little longer than normal; the gown fit to his figure amplifying his curvacious waist line and some how made it appear like he had more of a bust than he actually did. From the left hip, curling down around the skirt of the outfit brighter red gems had been sewn with care into the material to take the plainness off it, and where they met the hem of the dress and thin ribbon of black lace encircled.

"Where did Unny even get a dress like this? He can't have made this one two can he?" the redhead asked himself as he combed his fingers through his hair, his face fell a bit as he looked at himself in the mirror and his gaze slowly lowered.

The dress was beautiful, gorgeous even. But he was hardly worthy of it, his skin was dull and pale; his nose slightly off centre and eyebrows too thin, no amount of powder concealed or brightened his skin tone or made him look any less pale than he did and no amount of dreaming changed his gender. The only good thing about him was his hair colour, and that was only a matter of preference after all, if his favourite colour had been black or blue he would have hated his hair as well.

With a sigh he turned away from the mirror and nudged his glasses a little further up his nose, 'Is it any wonder William and Sebby keep rejecting me? They've both probably seen their fill of beautiful woman in their time... I'm end of the line cast off material that no one wants...' he let out a breath and exited the bathroom, not looking where he was going until he suddenly bumped into something warm and soft.

"I was starting to think you'd fallen down the drain!" Undertaker grinned, looking down at the redhead, "I'm glad the dress fits, it looks excellent on you."

"Ah... Yes..." he cleared his throat and slipped back into his protective shell, "Ah well of course Darling, it is a fabulous gown! Where on earth did you acquire it?"

"I made it." he said simply, shrugging wide a whimsical smile.

"W-What?! Again?!"

The ex-Reaper scratched the side of his face in though, "I make all my own clothes, it saves me from using that woman's wretched currency too much..."

Grell blinked and looked down at the out fit again, "D-Darling what are you doing in the mortuary business? You could be a designer! A fashion designer! You clearly have the skill for it!"

"Oh no, don't be silly Kitten, you've seen what I'm like in front of people~ No inner monologue, I'd offend all possible customers and models before they even began! Besides I know what I'm doing in the mortuary, and I don't have to worry about offending my customers either." he chuckled gently, "Its a nice dream though."

"B-but you can easily develop an inner monologue, and if you had a willing model who knew you to start with they could help put the others at ease, and you clearly know what you are doing with a sewing machine too... Unny this is amazing work... You shouldn't cast it aside."

Undertaker looked down at his expression, it was somewhere between desperate and excited, it created a slight smile on his face but he shook his head, chuckling softly, "Like I said, Kitten, its a nice dream." he murmured before he turned and walked back down the corridor and down the spiral staircase.

Grell faltered slightly as he was left stood there like a fool and sighed softly, "Good one girl, alienate your host." he muttered, running his fingers through his hair again, it was one big accident after another. He cast the thoughts away, determined not to let himself get carried away as he headed after the mortician and into the store below.

The redhead paused and blinked in confusion as he failed to locate the white haired male, looking in each room twice before standing in the middle of the coffin room with his hands on his hips, "Where did he get to? He can't just disappear- Well yes he can but... Oh this is ridiculous!"

He let out a frustrated huff and leaned against a coffin, folding his arms moodily before letting out a squeal as the casket moved fell over, taking the started redhead with it. A few yelps and curses later, Grell detangled himself from the coffin and stood up, brushing himself down and growling at the inanimate object which had assaulted him without permission.

Attention was then drawn by the large metal door which had been hidden behind the coffin, "My, my does he hide secret doors behind all of these coffins?" he asked aloud, biting his lip curiously as he edged closer to the door.

It was clearly very thick metal, and rapping his knuckles upon it triggered a very low droning noise in response. Curiosity at its peak, he edged forwards and rested his hands on the circular handle in the centre of the door and tugged on it, frowning as nothing happened; he tugged again and then pulled back and put his hands on his hips, looking at the handle before a light clicked on and he tried twisting it instead, a satisfied grin appearing on his face as the door depressurized and unlocked.

"Now what could he be hiding behind here?" he purred, pulled the door open fully before he crept inside the formerly hidden room.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness before he slowly tilted his head upon seeing rows and rows of coffins suspended from high beams by thick chains and pad locks. The sight was confusing to him at first, causing a small frown on his face before he walked over to the closest one and with the use of a nearby lever lowered the casket to the ground and set about unlocking it cautiously

"What's he got in here?" he asked aloud, his nimble fingers making short work of the locks and chains before he slowly lifted the lid.

Pale, ashen skin drained of life which stiff immobile limbs and pale blue lips suggesting some time had passed since the death; scars littered the snowy skin, though it became clear these scars were not the work of a mortician who was preparing a body for its final rest. These scars were sporadic and impulsive, as though experimental and each placed purposefully with precision, as though copied from a guide or plan. Yet they were, each one, precise and stitched closed with delicacy and skill.

He recognised the pattern of the stitches from Undertaker's work. But why were these corpses locked in here instead of being buried? It didn't make sense to him, in fact it confused him, even more so considering he was sure he recognised the face of this particular corpse.

It was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with ruddy brown hair and freckles dotted over his high cheeks and the bridge of his nose, nothing could be seen of his eyes because of the silken cloth which had been tied around his face, concealing them from view. Another anomaly he had not previously encountered.

He scanned the body for distinguishing marks before he paused as he saw the young man had a sixth finger on his right hand, and suddenly it clicked.

_'Gregory P Phisher. Birthday 2nd of April, twenty-one years of age. Cause of death: severing of the aortic valve through murder. Soul designated for collection.' _Grell thought to himself, brushing his index finger against his bottom lip, he had collected the soul himself, he remembered quite clearly because of the sensually seductive eyes the victim had possessed, cold and calculated grey held together by a thin ring of black around the outside or the iris.

"So what are you doing here?" he purred, leaning down slowly and reaching out to lift the blindfold the corpse was wearing when a sudden animalistic growl made him freeze, an icy cold shudder running up and down his spine, giving him the shakes.

His eyes were no wider than normal as he stared down at the corpse, swallowing quietly as he pulled his hand away _very_ slowly, his breath hitching as he saw its mouth opening slowly to release a rancid breath as well as revealing the insanely bloody teeth within.

Grell took a hasty step backwards as the corpse sat up in its coffin and he let out a small fearful squeak, wishing he had his Death Scythe on him. He backed up slowly, not even daring to draw breath in case the creature heard it; it seemed blind so he might be able to sneak out, but it could likely still smell and taste and hear.

_'Oh how do I get into these situations?!'_

he screamed inwardly, shaking slightly as the body turned its head towards him, a slightly thicker scar now revealed running around the top of its head, "Oh my god." he whispered in a single breath as the corpse slowly climbed from its coffin and began lumbering towards him.


	4. Chapter 4

Undertaker sighed as he stood atop the parlour roof, engulfed in the shadows of the night time scene, his robes billowed around him and his hair flared like flickering white flames among the black coal of the sky. His eyes were closed in thought as he considered Grell's words to him, he had often wondered why death called so strongly to him, he thought perhaps he could have escaped it when he left the Dispatch but even then he had fallen into mortuary and undertaker work, still dealing with the dead. He could never escape the dead, their eyes glaring at him from all corners, their voices where soundless and cursing him for taking their souls and their hands groping towards repentance when they were doomed and marked for hell.

He had collected so many souls, one after the other without care or consideration for so very long, he had become desensitized to it all. Until that day. With a wince he held his face, the scar across there burning like wild fire as memories most painful surfaced to taught him and punish him. He gritted his teeth through the pain, knowing it would eventually fade as it always did at times like these. The pain only flared when the thought of the past, it was a stupid thing to do really, he couldn't change anything. Even so the souls continued to haunt him.

His eyes opened as he suddenly heard a high pitched feminine scream from inside the parlour and he flew from the room, pain forgotten in the heat of adrenaline as he rushed into the main room, eyes widening as he saw the door to his secret storeroom was hung open. He saw a flash of red through the doorway and shot forwards, running into the room and wrapping his arms around Grell, letting out a cry as his own creation's teeth clamped down on his shoulder, biting through his flesh with ease; crippling his muscles and breaking his bones.

Undertaker let out a shrill cry of pain before he elbowed the corpse in the head, breaking its neck and sending it pooled to the ground before he staggered and landed on one knee himself. He panted softly and held the wound with his hand, feeling sticky wetness of blood oozing through his clothes.

Grell stared at him in shock, his body shaking from a mixture of fear and anger, "W-What... WHAT WAS THAT THING?!" he yelled, hitting the white haired male over the head with his fist.

"Shhhh! Don't shout." he groaned, "We were lucky you haven't already woken the others."

"O-Others?!" he squeaked, instantly cowering down beside the ex-Reaper.

Undertaker glanced at the redhead before he swallowed weakly, "Help me into the backroom... I will... Explain everything if you wish to hear it."

The redhead hesitated for a moment but bit his lip and slid his arms around the other's waist, helping him stand and escorting him from the room, watching as the man sealed the room again and concealed the door back behind the coffin which had been knocked over previously.

The pair lurched into the back room and into the kitchen area where Undertaker instantly sank down onto the wooden stood there, with some help sliding out of his cloak and robes. Undertaker felt his stomach knot a little before he looked around to inspect the wound he had received. As expected it was nothing too pretty, blood gushing from the deep penetrating teeth marks; pieces of skin missing were it had been ripped out and he could tell from the discolouration of the skin that his muscles had been damaged, and then there was the deep set throb which told him his bones had been broken when the corpse had chomped down.

It was just another scar.

Grell trembled slightly as he looked a the wound, a swirl of excitement rising at the sight of the pearly red blood but his stomach churning at the sight of the missing flash and if he leaned over enough he could see down to the bone through some of those gaps.

"U-Unny... How can I help?" he asked weakly, having turned a little green.

"Fill that bowl with boiling water, there's a needle and thread in my robes, put them both in the water for a few minutes to make them sterile. Then wet some cloth for me and pass it over." he instructed in a highly professional manner despite the pain.

"R-Right." the redhead squeaked before he set to do what he had been told, for once rather pleased to be following orders as it saved him paying attention to the growing sick feeling in his gut, and the memory of that creature in the other room.

The white haired ex-Reaper murmured his thanks as everything he had asked for was delivered to him and he picked up the wet cloth, gently pressing it over the wound, there was a flicker of pain on his face yet something nostalgic in his eyes to say he had done this before. Grell watched on, biting his manicured red nails nervously, hoping he would not be asked to help but at the same time wanting to do just that.

"What was that thing? Undertaker?" he asked after a moment, unable to keep the question locked away for any longer.

It took the mortician several moments to answer, the sound of the cogs working in his brain was almost audible to Grell as he saw the other's eyes glaze over in deep concentration, "Death is so final, you know? It brings an abrupt end to its sibling."

"Sibling? You mean life?"

"Of course." he sighed softly, setting the cloth down before he picked up the needle and thread and twisted so he could see what he was doing, "Could life be restarted once the soul is gone? That's what I asked myself, could I reanimate the dead? Would they retain their memories? Would they be human or something else? Was the cutting of the cinematic record truly the end?"

Grell frowned slightly, cringing as he watched the other male stitching his skin shut again, "You... Created him?"

"Them, dear Grell, them." he corrected softly, wincing a little at the burning prickle of the needle as it passed it through his skin, "A question. And a patron. That's all it took for me to fall further than before."

Unsure of what he was being told, the redhead slowly walked a little closer, kneeling down in front of the mortician and resting his hands on his knees, looking up with a confused expression. It caused Undertaker to pause for a moment sighing heavily, there was no smile on his face now, no joy or laughter just sorrow.

"A year ago, or more I cannot recall..." he looked away as he continued stitching his skin, "I created the first of my Dolls, a young woman with blonde hair and green eyes, she was run over my a carriage, her body was brought to me and I ran my usual tests and checks, got ready to patch her up and then realised no one would miss her... No one would check the coffin... Who was to say her body was inside and not somewhere else?"

"So you stole her body?"

"Yes, and performed the necessary experiments to answer my questions. By creating an artificial cinematic record and fixing it onto the end of her old one her life restarted. She was by no means human, she was something else; something new and unexplained. She had no vital signs, no pulse; heartbeat; no conscious thought... Only one carnal desire."

Grell gulped, "What was it?"

"Hunger. She had no soul, it had already be taken away by the Reaper who designated her for death, so she hungered for one, and thinking by consuming the flesh of the living she might recover a soul that is what she did. She killed six people before I was able to stop her, and it was through that Viscount Druitt discovered what I was doing and requested a part in it."

"Druitt? That awful man who was suspected to be involved in the Ripper case?"

"Yes, he s awful but he was able to give aid. I still needed answers, I needed to know if I could train them, help them, stop them being to hungry. But at the same time he desired an army of creatures who couldn't feel pain or regret, an army that sought only the devastation of anything placed in front of them. So he began paying me to make more Dolls." Undertaker cut the thread and washed his stitched skin a final time before standing and cleaning up.

He dare not look at Grell's face for shame, and fear of what he might see there. Whether it was hate or understanding it would make no difference to his shame. He had been bought like a servant for his abilities and was being treated no less than a slave to Druitt's will. Even if he desired to stop making the Dolls he couldn't for the Viscount had a hold over him that he could explain to no one. And never would. The memory too bitter and full of pain to look back upon he would take it to his grave when he finally found one willing to keep him.

"Unny?" Grell whispered, reaching out slowly and resting a feminine hand over the other's, "Unny?"

"Hmm?" the ex-Reaper looked around slowly, reluctantly, surprised by the amount of conflict he saw in the redhead's face.

"Can't you stop making them?"

"No... No I can't, regrettably. If I could then I would. But I can't Grell."

He looked down at that and sighed, "I see... Do you want to?"

Undertaker closed his eyes and gave a sad smile, "Yes and no. They are my creations, my Dolls who have become like children... But they are also monstrous murdering brutes who I can barely control. If I was able to find a way to keep them in better control I might be happier with them but at the moment they are just hungry animals on a breaking leash."

"You feel sorry for them?"

"Of course. I keep making them this way, the wrong way. If only I could figure out what to do to change it... To give them sanity or control... But I can't find the way, I can't do it right, I keep doing it wrong. It drives me to distraction, to insanity on so many levels. And anger." he sighed and looked down into the sink thoughtfully.

Grell bit his bottom lip and leaned forwards, resting his head against the other's shoulder, realising suddenly that Undertaker had killed one of his 'children' in order to protect him and he had done so unflinchingly and without hesitation. He looked up slowly and saw the expression on his face, it sent a cold shudder down his spine to see this crazy, funny clown of a man without his grin and without his giggle.

"Hey... How do you make Holy Water? You b-boil the _hell_ out of it!" the redhead said suddenly, closing his eyes as he waited for Undertaker to gag him like he had gagged Madam Red and Lau in the past, instead he was greeted by a loud round of rambunctious laughter; he slowly opened his eyes, his cheeks flushing as he saw Undertaker had thrown his head back and was well and truly letting rip with his laughter.

The ex-Reaper finally calmed down and smiled slightly, resting his hand on the other's head and ruffling his hair gently, "Thank you, dear, I needed that." he murmured, his eyes were still a little solemn but they had some mirth in them again.

"Y-You're welcome! And don't think you're off the hook mister, your bloody creation tried to eat me, thank you very much." he said, flustered by the affection he was being shown.

"I do apologise for that. To be fair though, had you not been so nosy you wouldn't have been in danger." Undertaker grinned, winking slightly.

"Oh you cheeky little-" he broke off as his face went scarlet and he felt Undertaker's surprisingly softly lips on his forehead, "Hhnnn..."

"Thanks for your help Kitten." he whispered before he stepped around the redhead and went off to dispose of the body of his ruined Doll.

Grell turned and watched him walk away, swallowing slightly as he lifted his hand and touched his forehead where he had been kissed, biting his bottom lip and wiggling slightly before he giggled and went the same colour as his hair in the face, doing a small jump of excitement.

Undertaker sighed as he ventured back into the 'secret' room and crouched down, turning over the crumpled body of his re-dead-undead creation, "I'm sorry." he murmured, "But I couldn't let you hurt him dear, anyone but him. I hope you can forgive me for being such a bad master." he said softly, cracking his neck back into place and watching as his Doll started to come back to undead-life once more, "You have to sleep again, it is not yet time for you to wake. Gregory. Sleep once again, you can wake when you reach the continent."

He lifted the Doll and carried him back to hi coffin, laying him inside and strapping him down before he tapped into his Reaper powers and sent him back into a coma-like sleep. Undertaker lowered the lid of the casket back down and buckled it shut, hoisting it back up to hang beside his brothers and sisters.

The ex-Reaper then sagged against the wall, holding his newest battle scar and closing his eyes, Druitt's people would arrive to pick up the newest batch of Dolls within the next few days. And then he would have to begin the monthly process all over again, collecting the bodies, severing the cinematic records, replacing and renewing the cinematic records, repairing damage to the body... It was exhausting, he wanted nothing more than to have a break. But he couldn't. It had to be done and he had no choice but to work to the grave in order to comply to Druitt's wishes.

Oh what he had gotten himself into this time.


	5. Chapter 5

The white haired male showed Grell into the back room, leading him upstairs and to a spare guest room he kept in decent condition in case he ever made a friend. This was a thought he had no understanding of himself as the prospect of making a friend was all but impossible in his eyes, nevertheless it appeared his forethought had come in handy.

The room was small but not without room to move, the single bed was comfortable and adorned with pale yellow sheets, he noticed Grell had originally cringed at the colour before finding the comfort of the bed far more impressive. The redhead had fallen fast asleep before he had even finished explaining the house rules and as such Undertaker had left him alone to rest after his stressful encounter with the Doll before.

So the ex-Reaper ventured to his own room, tidying restlessly before he sat on the edge of his own bed and looked out of the window, he reached up slowly and brushed his hair back out of his face so his eyes were revealed, he winced a little as they were exposed to the light of the room but they soon recovered and he was left feeling a little empty. Grell's presence had given him an escape from dark thoughts and troubling business arrangements but now the redhead was asleep he was alone again and piled high with more troubles than before.

He had a feeling, a quiver, a suggestion, an idea, a fear... That maybe his identity would soon be revealed to others against his will, or rather when he was given no other choice but to reveal himself to them. It was a prophetic sensation running through his age old blood and bones, a foreshadowing of events to come. His eyes moved to the bedside table where a small white envelope sat.

Undertaker picked it up and held the envelope for several long moments before re-opening it and pulling the slimline ticket from inside. He turned it over a couple of times between his fingers before he looked at the writing, with his eyesight he could just make out the words if he held it up close to his face.

It was a boarding ticket. Druitt had invited him on an excursion of a sort. It was for a few day's time, and he hoped to have sent Grell back to the Reaper Realm before he left so the redhead wouldn't follow him. It would raise too many questions in too short a time. So he would be firm. This was an appointment he couldn't afford to miss.

The man tucked the ticket away again and slid the envelope into the top draw before slowly laying down and closing his eyes, he probably wouldn't sleep, but he could at the very least rest for a few hours before work started and new customers were brought for burial. His shoulder would he in fully bruised blossom by that time, but he doubted it would prevent him working, he had suffered far worse in his years.

Grell woke early the next morning when the bright sunlight filtered in the room through the curtains and fell on his face, blinding him in its brilliance as he first opened his eyes and sat up; he took a moment to remember where he was and then relaxed, stretching hugely and yawning, feeling utterly content and pleased with himself.

After a few minutes, the redhead got up and brushed himself down, smiling as he looked at the dress he was still wearing, it brought a smile to his face to think so much love had been put into it by a man like Undertaker. A man like Undertaker...

He bit his lip and looked down, a man like Undertaker could create a work of art like this dress but also mangled monsters like the 'Doll' he had met the night before. A man like Undertaker could lie to his face and not feel guilt. A man like Undertaker... Could he be trusted at all or was everything a lie?

'No... No he looked so sad yesterday when he was explaining about Druitt and the Dolls... I don't believe it was all lies. It can't be all lies.' Grell licked his lips and picked up a brush off the side, sitting in front of the lady's vanity mirror in the corner of the room and looking at his reflection as he began brushing his hair, starting at the bottom so it wouldn't knot as much.

The redhead nudged his glasses up his nose as he thought things through, Undertaker had been so apologetic and unbelievably ashamed, the humanity in his actions which was normally lacking from the man's attitude made Grell want to believe him. He had never seen the ex-Reaper so solemn before in his life, it was almost heartbreaking, it not the stuff of nightmares. He couldn't help but believe him, trust him even.

But something had to be done about the Dolls. They were clearly making Unny unhappy and stressful, there had to be something that could be done in order to make Druitt stop. Well of course they could kill him but then William would take his chainsaw away again and he had only just got it back. He pouted slightly at the memory of the months he had been without his beloved chainsaw for and sighed softly.

Maybe he could just work on cheering the old boy up a bit, do something nice for him, bring that smile back or something similar. Then he shook his head and put the hair brush down, resting his hands on his hips and frowned at his reflection.

"Why do I even care?" he asked himself, "He's just another handsome man, it shouldn't make anything any different and I wouldn't normally be bothered. Is it..." he paused and let out a small gasp of surprise, "... He treats me better than any other man I know... He's never hit me or hurt me, said anything cruel or mean... He's only ever shown me kindness..."

He blushed slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, wiggling on the stool as he came to terms with the fact he was developing a case of hero worship on the man. Not only was he the most legendary Reaper the world had ever know, he was the oldest, the wisest, the strongest, the first Reaper that had been created; he was also drop dead gorgeous and kind with it.

"Oh my gosh." he breathed, clapping his hands over his face, "I'm sorry darling Sebby, dear William, I no longer love only the two of you! The creepy, gory, grim and utterly crazy mortician has stolen my heart!" he squeaked.

Grell stood up and left the room, running down the hallway and bursting into Undertaker's room, squealing as he flew through the air and landed on the white haired man, straddling his lap as he watched the other jolt awake in response.

"Grell!" Undertaker yelled in shock, panting heavily as he flopped back down on the bed and covered his face with his arms as he tried to recover from the surprise he had just experienced.  
"Good morning Unny, Darling!" he grinned, clapping his hands together before he leaned down, "Aren't you meant to be downstairs opening up the parlour already?"  
"Oh shush." he grumbled, "I don't want to. I want a holiday."  
The redhead giggled at that, "Naughty, naughty Unny~! You aren't allowed a holiday! Up to you get! Have a wash, get dressed and get to work."  
"Ugh you're worse than a wife nagging at me." he muttered, wiggling under his body until he was able to sit up, blinking slightly at how close they were pressed together in response to the change of position.

Undertaker licked his lips and looked at Grell, his eyes dragging over every inch of his face as his heart rate sped up a little and his skin warmed as though someone had lowered him into warm water. He saw Grell's pupils dilate slightly and he leaned in a little closer, his breath shaking gently before he chickened out, slipping from beneath the redhead to appear stood in front of his wardrobe, composing himself as he pulled clean robe from within.

Grell pouted slightly as he turned to look at the ex-Reaper, grinning suddenly as he saw his face was slightly flushed and he realised he had an effect of some kind on the other male. This pleased him greatly.

"Hey, Unny, are you running from me again?" he purred.  
"I never ran in the first place my dear scarlet rose, I am backing away skillfully." he bowed mockingly before heading into the bathroom for a quick wash, he paused at the bathroom door and looked back at him, "Are you alright today?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.  
The Reaper smiled and sat comfortably on the bed, "Yes darling, thank you. Do you want me to check your shoulder?"  
"No need. I can manage. If you want to go and help yourself to breakfast feel free." he winked and disappeared inside the room to wash.

The redhead sighed softly and tilted his head as the bathroom door shut behind the other man and he decided to follow the advice given to him and grab some food. He found his way to the kitchen downstairs, recalling how a few hours previously he had been helping his host clean up after that horrible Dolly Attack. He shuddered.

Grell sighed to himself as he began cooking them both a traditional fried breakfast, something he had become fond of since first visiting the human world. A small smile touched his lips as he worked, cooking was something he both enjoyed and excelled at, he was good at French dishes and he was still learning English ones, though they were much harder in his opinion.

He looked around as he heard movement and smiled as he saw Undertaker had returned, looking fresh and clean, though his hair was still damp and looked longer than it usually did as a result. Grell's face went a little red as he looked at his naked torso, swallowing slightly as he raked his eyes over the figure of the other man - he was more feminine in build than he had imagined, he had pictured strong muscles hiding under those layers of robes, but in fact the opposite was equally appealing, he was delicate like Grell himself, yet still managed to carry himself with confidence, strength and dominance. It was very appealing to him and he felt a stirring of warmth in his loins, flushing darker as he tore his eyes away and looked back at the breakfast he was making.

"I made us a traditional fried English breakfast, I hope its satisfactory for you Unny." he mumbled, not trusting his voice with more than a whisper.  
The ex-Reaper smirked slightly, having seen the redhead's blush and gaze, he didn't normally feel comfortable showing himself to people but considering Grell had already seen this much of him the previous evening he felt more at ease, "That sounds wonderful, my thanks for your time."  
"No problem darling." the redhead smiled, glancing at him again.

In the morning light filtering through the windows he could better see the scars littering the white haired male's skin, it shocked him that he had been so blind to them the night before, though he had been more worried about the bleeding wound he had seen than existing scars at the time. There was a truly horrific looking one extending across his chest, it looked deep, like it may have slashed through muscle and organs at the time of making; yet despite the unsightly patterning of distorted flesh against lithe muscle Grell found him all the more attractive for it. In fact, the scars made him swoon.

Grell sighed softly and served the meal he had prepared, feeling proud of himself despite his anxiety about cooking a dish he wasn't overly familiar with, he was also hoping that he had gotten it right for the other reaper, for some reason he still couldn't quite explain... He wanted to please the man and to see him smile. He wanted to have his praise and respect, and he wanted to preen under that praise like a dog who'd learned a new trick. Though he doubted he would ever be treated like an animal by this man. There was something sincere behind those sad pretty eyes.

He sat down at the table opposite his host, beginning his own meal tentatively; watching the other as he popped a fork full of food in his mouth and began to chew. The redhead bit his lip as he watched his expression turn from neutral to surprised to amazed.

"This is fantastic Grell! So much flavour!" he smiled, "Thank you, its really great."  
"O-Oh... Really?" he asked, blinking in surprise at having done his task successfully, "You really like it?"  
"I do! Its fantastic. Carry on like this and I won't let you return to the Dispatch." Undertaker laughed and continued eating merrily, watching the redhead every now and again, feeling his stomach clench at the small expressions being pulled, oblivious by the other, and the mischief in his eyes contained by his desire to do well. It was an endearing sight.

"Maybe I don't want to go back." Grell retorted with a smirk.  
"Dispatch will be cross if I kidnap you dearie, they'll come and get you."  
"I doubt it. William will probably be glad to get rid of me." he shrugged, "You're the only person who doesn't seem to hate me."  
Undertaker faltered a little and sighed softly, "I am sure they don't hate you."  
"Of course they do. You've seen how I'm treated darling, like scum. Worse than scum." he snorted and looked down, sighing heavily before he brushed his hair over his shoulder, "Never mind. It doesn't matter."  
"It does matter Grell. You don't deserve the abuse."

The pair shared a long glance, in which Grell slowly turned red and smiled slightly, looking back down to continue his breakfast, slightly abashed by the ex-Reaper's consideration.


	6. Chapter 6

For the rest of the day, Grell helped the ex-Reaper around the parlour, he found it somewhat peaceful to polish the wood on the coffins and watching a shine rise on the crafted pieces brought a smile to his lips as he seemed to be quite good at it. They spoke no more of William or the Dispatch, instead their conversation was filled with jollity and amusing anecdotes from Undertaker concerning his work, some of the most amusing corpses he had worked with.

The parlour was filled with giggles and laughter, something which rarely happened but it made a nice change for the older man, and also for the younger who was not used to being so accepted or befriended.

Grell couldn't resist sneaking glances at the man as he worked, he was truly more beautiful than he had imagined, thin beams of sunlight snuck through the curtains and every so often would fall upon Undertaker's skin or hair, making it glisten like a gem or shine like a precious metal. It made Grell stop and stare every time for several moments before he realised what he was doing and returned quickly to his work.

Undertaker however was no oblivious to the looks he was receiving, in fact he was more than aware of them, and was returning them whenever he thought there was a prime moment, Grell looked magnificent as he straddled the coffins one at a time, polishing them with zeal and revealing his thighs though the entrapment of his pants. He looked well defined, taut and feminine with an edge of haughtiness he presumed was for protection. A sigh left his lips and he shook his head so he could concentrate on his own job rather than on Grell's fine figure.

Finally, upon reaching the end of his daily list of corpses to tend to, Undertaker took a seat with a warm cup of milk, offering Grell the same, "You did well today, I was impressed." he purred.  
"Hehe thanks Unny, it was more fun than I expected! And I happen to think I am quite good at it too." he winked and sat down, accepting the milk happily and taking a sip, "Is it like this every day?"  
"Pretty much, yes, it gets more trouble some when the Earl comes knocking but not by much." he answered honestly, "Why?"  
"No reason really..." he smiled, "Did I do okay?"  
"You did do wonderfully dear Grell. I was impressed." he confirmed a second time, smiling at him before he sipped his drink, "I am worried for my job shall we say!"  
"Nooo I couldn't deal with the corpses, no thank you!" he giggled, "But the side I was working on was fine, it was fun. Really fun."

Rather than reply and risk his mouth ruining the moment, Undertaker simply nodded and smiled as he continued to drink his milk; he looked around the shop and sighed as a melancholy thought came to him, the parlour could do with a woman's touch. He glanced sideways at Grell and considered if for a moment.

"What would you change in decor if you had the chance?" he inquired softly.  
"Hmm? Maybe put some nice lights in and open the curtains for a start." the redhead joked, "Mmm... I don't know, I mean its an undertaker's its meant to be solemn and sad... But I guess I would add a splash of red somewhere."  
That brought a smile to his face and he nodded, "Interesting." he murmured, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the moment, opening them again quickly as he felt Grell kiss his cheek, his face pinked a little as he looked at the other again.  
"Sorry I had to do that." Grell giggled before standing up, "I'm going to go and wash."

"O-Okay." he breathed, watching him go upstairs before he lifted a hand and touched his face, he felt all warm and fluffy on the inside and wriggled slightly on the seat he was in, finishing his milk with a not so innocent thought of 'should I offer to wash his back?'

He quickly decided against such a course of action, deeming it to be ungentlemanly and... An invasion of Grell's privacy. Nevertheless, when he heard the water switch on he felt a prang of desire towards the redhead, imagining his silken white skin, creamy as the milk they'd just drunk.

He sighed softly and sat back, looking around the parlour again, "Mm a splash of red?"


End file.
